


The Second Shift

by XplodingSeahorsePants



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: A Night in the Life of Troy, Age Difference, F/M, FTWD, Liberties taken with Lookout Tower and Window but oh well, Masturbation, Mother Issues, Night Guard Duty, Nudity, Sorry I'm Bad at Summaries, Swearing, fear the walking dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 15:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11923449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XplodingSeahorsePants/pseuds/XplodingSeahorsePants
Summary: Troy uses the second night shift to his own advantage complete with binoculars on hand and is a bit naughty as a result.





	The Second Shift

Not long after Madison and her kids first arrived at the Broke Jaw ranch, Troy discovered the secret of the second night shift. Ever since the first night it's become vitally important to him that nobody else signs up for the 11pm to 3 am shift in the lookout tower.  
Only once has he lost it to someone else and Mike wound up with a hell of a lump on his jaw for defying the youngest Otto son, so it won't likely happen again anytime soon. 

Just the memory of his fist driving a mean right hook into his old friend's face makes him smirk. He’d be lying if he said no longer needing to worry about Mike trying to take his lookout shift doesn’t give him a huge amount of relief. 

Troy’s not sure when his old friends all became less of a priority for him, but he’s pretty positive it happened around the time he first brought Madison home with him. Even now, after over a month of living on the ranch with her, whenever he catches anyone eyeing her, he still has to clench a fist, digging his fingernails into the palm of his hand to keep from lashing out at them.  
The pain brings him a kind of clarity, reassuring him that he's alive here with her and they’re still connected in a way nobody can come between.

Recalling how Mike spoke of her right before his death, Troy feels more than vindicated for punching him as well as a smug satisfaction for killing him. Mike accusing him of thinking with his dick and being hopelessly obsessed with Madison was exactly what made Troy lose control completely. He meant it when he told Madison that Mike and his family were dead to him. He just hadn't known exactly how dead they were until he killed them.

Tonight he slings his assault rifle over his shoulder, safety on, of course, since he’s not an idiot and heads off to the watchtower, whistling softly as he goes. 

The stars are out in their usual splendor, but not one can hold a candle to the woman he’s trekking up here to see. A chill wind stirs the air as he yanks his beanie down to cover his ears, his unkempt hair sticking out in a wild curly halo framing his face. He’s not sure what song he’s whistling but it’s the sort of thing that pops into his head whenever Madison gives him an approving look, so it’s pretty damn cheery.

Stepping around the multitude of rabbit holes littering the grounds on the path to the watchtower, he reminds himself to use the furry pests for target practice tomorrow. Surely the kitchen workers can make soup or something useful out of them. The last thing they need is a broken legged militia member brought on by an overzealous rabbit warren. There’s no sense in letting themselves be overrun by useless rabbits digging up their grounds and breeding even more of their kind.  
The goddamn rabbits have more of a sex life than he does, it’s certainly no wonder he hates them. Brimming over with pent up frustration Troy kicks one of the burrow mounds as he’s going past, sending up a cloud of dust in his wake. He marches on feeling only slightly better.

If there's one thing he can't abide it's useless things, which might explain some of the animosity he holds towards Nick.  
Sure it’s great the guy is finally learning to shoot training with the militia, but he needs to treat his mother better with the respect she deserves or there’ll be hell to pay if Troy has anything to say about it.  
He can’t help scowling at the thought of Nick. Considering how much love Madison has wasted on her ungrateful, disrespectful son never fails to irritate him. Nick doesn’t deserve her love, it’s Troy who deserves it. He’s the one who loves her life more than his own, he's the one she owes herself to multiple times over by now for how many times he’s saved her and those kids of hers.

The full moon bathes the hills in a bright silvery light accentuating the details in all the vegetation it illuminates. Smaller tufts of scrub grass seem bigger and more pronounced as he strolls through them, their dry stems brushing against his camo pants make a rhythmic swishing sound. Shadows of the night reach out to him along the path though it is quiet otherwise with nothing but an occasional coyote bark or owl hoot to break the calm. 

The watchtower looms overhead, mere yards past the rabbit warren, its bulk blotting out the stars behind it. He can barely make out the figure of Coop lounging in the tower’s lone chair up on the second story deck. That asshole better not be napping or Troy will be only too happy to dole out some well justified punishment.

Troy tends to be a pent up wreck of frustration by this time of night. He's been around Madison all day long with hardly any reprieve, nothing but a few minutes jacking off in the john while fantasizing about her naked, supple body writhing beneath him. Sometimes when she's talking to him, he'll catch himself staring at her breasts like a pervert, his pants suddenly growing uncomfortable. If it's while they're eating, all he can do is desperately hope she doesn't decide to put a napkin in his lap as she’s done in the past at other inopportune times.  
It’s downright maddening to be putting up with all this sexual frustration but there don’t seem to be any signs of it relenting soon. Often he feels as though he's battling his way through a second puberty but it's not like there's any doctor around for clarification so he just continues to suffer while wondering if there isn’t something seriously wrong with him being so horny.  
Troy comes to a halt a few feet from the tower’s first flight of stairs to readjust his pants just in case of a sudden stiffy creeping up on him.

“Hey, Coop!”he shouts once he’s finished, securing his rifle again while waiting for the reply. There comes an answering grumble from Coop above so Troy stomps up the stairs to the second story deck, careful not to knock his binoculars case against anything on the way.  
On the second deck landing of the tower he finds Coop leaning back in the only chair, boots propped on the railing, not exactly an ideal position for awareness or guard duty in general. 

Troy bites his lip, wrinkling his nose in distaste while weighing the option of making a big deal about it now as opposed to waiting until morning and chewing the guard out in front of the whole militia. He winds up settling on the latter option unwilling to bother with it at the moment.  
Coop grunts, thumbing his camo hat back to squint sleepily at the younger man.  
“Anything to report?”Troy demands, frowning sternly in return.

By the dim light from the kerosene lantern, it looks suspiciously like Coop rolls his eyes in answer, but he suddenly sits forward coughing and pounding a fist on his chest.

“Shit,” Coop mutters,”fucking dry air out here’s killin’ me. Goddamn drought n’all. Nah, nothin’, not a peep, no sightings a nothin’ whole time I been here. Uhh... kinda early, ain't ya?”  
Now it’s Troy’s turn to cover his anxiety with a sudden coughing fit, one so fierce he has to fix his beanie back on his head again once he’s done.

“Yeah, goddamn dust,”he wheezes back, setting his gun and binoculars case down next to the kerosene lantern on the deck table, a rickety contraption from an old patio set of Jeremiah’s. He checks his watch to find he’s over 15 minutes early.

“Well, shit,”Troy chuckles, scrambling for an excuse with what he hopes looks like nonchalant ease”I figured you’d wanna get another helping a’ those boar ribs you had three platefuls at dinner. Y’know, before the kitchen closes.”

“Gotta keep my strength up somehow,”grins Coop, rising from the chair with a complaining creak from his knees showing they obviously haven’t been used for multiple hours on end. “Now I’m done, it’ll be boar ribs n’ whiskey, midnight snack a’ champions. Wouldn’t dream a’ drinkin’ on watch.”

Troy immediately suspects Coop of drinking on watch, something he won’t tolerate even slightly. He spent his whole life watching liquor destroy his loved one’s lives, including taking care of his mother while she drank herself to death, he sure as hell isn’t going to let a drunk guard get them all killed. Too bad they need experienced fighters like him so badly or Troy wouldn't hesitate to slit the big bearded man’s throat. It would be easy enough to blame the unfortunate death on Taqa Walker’s group. But he probably ought to find proof first, Madison doesn't like it when he makes rash decisions and there’s nothing he hates more than disappointing her. 

“Go on, get outta here,”Troy snaps, punching Coop on the arm just a tad too hard instead of killing him.

Throwing a curious glance at the binoculars case on the table, Coop makes the wise decision not to question their presence. There's already a pair of night vision goggles on hand with even more pairs stored in the tower’s locked cabinet so therefore no reason to bring any non night vision capable binoculars along. The pair Troy has are only useful for looking in lit up windows where the militia has no business spying. 

Coop loads his gun securely on his back before finally heading off down the stairs, still coughing slightly while completely unaware of how close he’d just come to death. Troy watches him leave as long as he’s visible, noting any stumbling or other signs of drunkenness to prove his suspicions correct. As the militia’s leader he has to stay on top of discipline, preparing himself for any potential problems that could arise amongst his troops. Even though Coop didn't smell of alcohol, when he trips over a bristly clump of grass on his way down the path Troy’s distrust grows ever more wary. As soon as the older man is out of sight, the youngest Otto son quickly rummages through the tower searching for stashed bottles, though he uncovers nothing suspicious for his efforts.

Between the ranch’s upkeep, Walker’s threats, the Infected and the alcoholism potential among his men; he’s up to his eyeballs in responsibility. Even worse is the fact that he can't afford to fully trust the militia since none of them realize how important Madison is to their continued survival nor will they defend her life enough to satisfy him. He’s the only one he can rely on to keep her safe because he alone knows that without her holding him in check he will lose control, the darkness in his mind taking over to destroy them all.

Checking his watch again, he switches the lantern off, with only a short time left to ready himself, he can't forget any crucial elements like minimizing backlighting for better visibility.

He drags the table over next to the chair, making sure there’s a flashlight on hand by the lantern as well. After a few moments of scanning the horizon he reaches into a jacket pocket, pulls out a small tube of lotion and, with a furtive glance around, adds it to the items on the table. He’s not sure why, but he often feels like he’s being watched while in the tower, although the strange premonition has never stopped him from what he’s about to do yet again. 

Troy tells himself on a daily basis it’s not weird to lust after someone old enough to be his mom. It's perfectly normal to hide away with his private fantasies every night, he’s not doing anything wrong, but everyday there’s a constant nagging in the back of his mind that says he’s a goddamn liar.

Removing the binoculars from their case, he peeks at his watch again before using them to scan over the bulk of the gardens to the barracks just beyond. There’s a few lights shining out in the dark, his heart rate picks up in anticipation as he frantically searches for her window. At long last zeroing in on the one he wants, Troy lets out a sigh of relief, glad he’d made sure when she first arrived to give her the brightest and largest lantern he could find. 

The warm glow from her window illuminates the night more than all the cold distant stars shining in their myriad numbers overhead as he squats halfway out of the chair carefully refocusing the zoom on his binoculars.  
His heart skips a beat when he spots the familiar figure of Madison seated on her bunk next to a small pile of clothing. Does she have a washcloth in that pile, he wonders, cocking an eyebrow, his breath hitching at the thought of a potential sponge bath tonight.

Leaning back in the chair he settles down for the long haul making sure to keep the binoculars trained on that one bright spot holding all of his attention. Even over 200 yards away while situated on top of a lookout tower, he can smell her skin, golden and glistening from a whole day’s worth of perspiration, her underlying fragrance of violets from the scented lotion she took from their supply locker suddenly permeating the air around him as if she’s there in person. 

Two more bottles are stowed away under Troy’s bathroom sink ready for the day she uses up the first one. He imagines new scenarios for presenting her with the lotion gift, most of which end in him stripping off her clothes and smoothing it onto her bare skin himself, but he sincerely doubts it’ll happen anywhere close to how it plays out in his head. The usual stirring in his groin gives rise to a rapid heat crawling up his neck as he waits for Madison to think she’s alone. 

Alicia crosses in front of the window, making Troy tap his foot, annoyed at her continued presence. Shouldn’t she have left for his brother’s bed by now? Admittedly it's kind of funny that Jake’s usefulness has digressed to being only handy for removing Alicia from the Clark’s quarters so his younger brother can drool over her mother in peace. To this day he can't figure out what Jake sees in her. Alicia seems like such a naive girl to him, too young and inexperienced in life to capture his attention. Especially since her mother, Madison, is right there shining out like a beacon in the desolate night calling him home.  
What he wouldn't give to stroll in once Madison is alone and have free reign to touch her everywhere he knows he shouldn't. The mere idea of it makes him take a long drawn out breath exhaling slowly through his mouth to calm his immediately racing pulse.

Shifting into a better position in the chair, he gives one last tug to his beanie forcing it to stay put. He leans his elbow on the chair arm to squint through the binoculars down into the Clark family barracks.

His whole body thrums with impatience, foot tapping out an anxious refrain to some forgotten melody from way back before the world died.  
Back and forth in front of the window Alicia paces, thoughtlessly blocking his view of his entire reason for perching on a lookout tower in the chilly desert air at midnight spying like a creep. With a heavy sigh, he rubs a hand over his face, saying a silent prayer that Alicia will beat it out of there sooner than later. Craning his neck to see behind her to Madison with no success, he kicks the deck railing in frustration.

“Come on, Alicia, get the hell out,”he mutters under his breath. A sudden rustling noise comes from the direction of the tall grass far below. Snatching up the night vision goggles from the table, he peers hastily over the ledge for the source of the movement.  
The sharp blades of desert grass lie still the moment he turns the goggles their way, not even a stray breeze stirring their stalks. He shrugs, probably nothing but a rabbit digging in the brush.

Dropping the goggles back on the table he grabs the binoculars, zooming in on the window again.  
There she is, still seated on the bunk, but this time with Alicia no longer stomping around and disrupting his view. Hope returns like the sun bursting through a bulk of clouds. At long last he is free to enjoy his queen in all her glory.  
He sits forward in his chair rolling the focus dial on the binoculars just a tiny bit more to clear up his visual.

Her hair stands out in the darkness, bright tangles of gold shining in the lantern's glow. She glances around the room, as if surprised to finally be alone, then looks down, sighs, and begins unbuttoning her shirt. Looking at her often makes it difficult for him to breathe, especially if he's watching from up here in a growing state of arousal.

Troy inches forward in his seat, unaware of his jaw dropping slowly down as she slides her shirt off. There’s something strangely vulnerable about her when she’s alone, even though she’s stronger than anyone he’s ever met before. He tries to play it cool around her, acting as nonchalant as possible, he tries to be the toughest, most patient man in what’s left of the world, when in reality he's often fighting a fiercely pounding heart while his guts twist into complicated pretzels. 

She's wearing her black bra, he can't help smirking at the sight, it's turning out to be a pretty lucky night for him. She only owns two, the other a sort of cream color, but the black one is Troy’s favorite. The dark fabric contrasts beautifully with her golden skin, it’s shapely cut hugging her breasts in a tantalizing way that makes him ache to slip a finger beneath the fabric and caress her soft skin. The heat curling up from his groin only increases in intensity as she reaches back to unhook her bra. Breathing heavily through half parted lips, his eyelids heavy as if drugged, Troy barely has the presence of mind to undo his pants before she's pulling her bra off and dropping it on her bunk. 

He fumbles the binoculars nearly dropping them, too hot and bothered to concentrate on keeping his hands from shaking. Stretching his free hand out towards her, he pretends to slide a finger down her cleavage, imagining cupping her right breast and fondling her nipple until it stands out aroused, waiting for his lips.  
His own excitement is overwhelming, yanking his combat pants fly wide open, Troy frees his raging erection. The pent up yearning to reach out to her, to act out his fantasies, to taste the salty sweat of her skin, to touch the soft warmth of her breasts and the moist heat between her legs growing too strong to resist. Good fucking god, what was she doing to him? 

“Fuck, Madison,”he whispers into the darkness, not even sure why he said it, but she's wetting a washcloth from her water bottle while his heart races so loudly it's all he can hear.  
Completely unaware of her impassioned admirer far above, she first wipes the day's dust from her neck, then her breasts, holding each one in turn to wash them clean. Troy squirms in his chair, agitated and too aroused to cope, he squeezes the tip of his rock hard prick, an odd mewling sound escaping his throat. Madison slips her jeans and panties off leaving them in a pile on the floor where they land.

Squirting more water on the cloth, she slides it down her torso, standing to reach her hips and thighs in one long flowing motion.  
Troy's heartbeat seems to come to a complete halt, his hungry gaze traveling down to fasten on that neat cluster of blonde hair between her legs just barely covering her cleft. He licks his lips, wondering at how painfully dry they’ve suddenly become.  
Of course she's oblivious to his pent up desires, she has no idea how parting her legs to casually clean there sends shuddering jolts of electric lust roaring up his spine. 

He puts the binoculars down only long enough to splatter some lotion into his right hand. It takes a huge amount of focus to hold them steady once he's staring through them at her again. Taking in the graceful curve of her naked hips fills his head with a strange pounding noise, guilt over what he's doing claws at his conscience but it’s not like he has any other outlet he reminds himself, aggressively stroking the length of his cock, every nerve in his body prickling with excitement. Shit, what the hell is wrong with him?

His head feels hot and swollen despite the chill desert air, a stray trickle of sweat suddenly rolls down his neck. But he can't take off his beanie, not while she's in front of the window bending over to work on her knees and he can see exactly the part of her he’s dying to fondle, aching to push his face into her exploring her with his tongue.

His blood seems to ignite, all his pent up frustration going into masturbating, desperately seeking the satisfaction he's forced to squelch in her presence. If only he had the guts to kiss her, he’d back her into a wall crushing his body against hers, shove his tongue past her lips to touch hers and completely lose himself in her mouth.  
Images of her dance through his burning mind. In his naughtiest fantasies he's holding her down on that bunk, thrusting himself inside her where he belongs, licking her small pert nipples with her thrashing around beneath him, crying out for him and only him.

Sitting back down on the bed, Madison begins to wash her feet, one at a time. She holds the foot she’s bathing across her knee so he can see that space between her legs, dark and more tempting than anything else he's ever seen opening for him. It’s impossible not to lose his mind staring, the stroking motion of his dominant hand growing even more frenzied, faster and faster as she moves on to the other foot. 

He imagines kneeling down before her and gently pushing her foot out of the way to engulf her pussy with his mouth, indulging in the forbidden taste of her arousal, how he’d flick her clit with his tongue sending her into orgasmic spasms. He can almost feel her fingers lacing through his messy hair.  
And all at once it becomes too much for him, his whole body stiffening suddenly almost as hard as his prick. Troy’s head crashes back into the chair headrest. Letting out a strangled cry he spurts hard into the palm of his hand, face twisting with the intensity of his climax while his back arches painfully into the wooden chair. 

Breathless and panting for air he wilts into the patio chair, binoculars dropping from his limp hand onto the strategically set table. 

Often it's like being eaten alive by a constant, all consuming desire, but he’s definitely not obsessed or anything and how dare Mike suggest such bullshit. As if he was qualified to analyze Troy when he's just some dumb hick guy with no guidance counselor background whatsoever. 

All Troy really wants is to spend the rest of his life with her. They’ll kill hordes of the Infected together as he protects her, loving and adoring her with everything he has. Surely that’s not too much to ask for. Madison belongs to him, even if she doesn’t realize it yet, he's determined to open her eyes. It’s only a matter of time until she’s fully aware of her place in his world. They’ll rule this dead, burned land, controlling the ranch and it’s property for miles around. He’ll be the king of death and she’ll be his queen, he daydreams, a self satisfied smile curving his lips as he wipes up the mess he made with a tissue from one of his many pockets.

There’s a sudden unexpected noise from below rudely shaking Troy from his reverie, a loud rustling followed by an even louder thud.  
”Fuck!” a shout bursts out from the direction of the rabbit burrows in a voice that is unmistakably Nick’s.

Blood rapidly drains from Troy’s face leaving him white as a sheet. Frantically he scrambles to stuff his cock back into his boxers and refasten his pants. Shaking hands fumble to hide the offending tissue deep in a pocket out of sight, but wherever he looks he’s surrounded by the evidence of his sin. The lotion tube on the table, the binoculars lying discarded next to it, the fact that he’s facing her barracks, shit, he’s basically sitting out here red handed.

“What the hell are you doin’ down there?”Troy calls out in a panic, his voice cracking like he’s a teenager. He crams the small tube of lotion into a jacket pocket, and snatches up the flashlight. Switching it on he peeks over the railing all wide blue eyes and innocence.

There in the midst of shadowy heaps of rabbit dug mounds lies Nick, his arms above his head in a position of surrender with one leg rammed down a rabbit hole and a suspicious expression on his face aimed directly at Troy. 

“Pfffffttt, nothing,”Nick answers, shrugging as if he's always out exploring rabbit holes at midnight,”y’know, just out having a stroll, I didn't know we had a bunny sanctuary up here.”  
A tight grimace stretching his lips like a death mask, Troy leans his elbows on the railing glowering angrily down at the intruder. Nick may be smiling and joking but he's up to no good no matter how he tries to excuse his snooping. 

“You wanna walk around in the middle a’ the night for no reason, I’ll put you on perimeter duty, but don't go prancing through a rabbit colony in the dark, dumbass. That’s a stupid way to break a leg,”Troy scolds, his own shame crawling up to settle in his stomach, cold and perverse with the knowledge of what he’d just done. 

Nick's eyes seem to spark with mischief in the blinding beam of Troy's flashlight. It only makes him more uneasy as he watches the younger man struggle to a standing position on the rolling grassy mounds.

“Look, I’m fine, those bunnies are gonna have to try a lot harder if they want one of my legs,”Nick chuckles, bouncing from one leg to another to prove Troy’s concern wrong.

“That’s it, you’re on perimeter duty tomorrow night,”Troy orders in a sharp voice,”report to the front gate by 11:00 and make sure you stay away from here.” He glares down again, mulling over the decision in his mind.”And let Madison know so she doesn’t worry,”he can’t help adding hurriedly as Nick throws him a curious searching look before shrugging again and accepting his new guard shift with a little mocking bow.

“Right, don’t want Mom worrying,”Nick winks back, grinning like he’s thoroughly enjoying some sort of private joke that Troy can’t even hope to comprehend. It’s irritating as all hell, but also funny that Nick seems to think he has the upper hand.

“It’s late, you should go get some sleep,”suggests Troy, eager to be rid of Nick’s presence. 

“Sure thing old man,”quips Nick doing a 180 and sauntering away, the back of his head suspiciously confronting Troy as much as his face had been.

Clutching the flashlight in an iron grip, Troy follows Nick with the beam as he heads off towards his family's barracks.  
He decides to leave the rabbits alone for awhile yet, they seem to be doing an admirable job of stopping unwelcome visitors from sneaking up on him. His previous hatred for them dissipates replaced by sudden undying gratitude. Obviously they’re not anywhere near as useless as he'd thought before.  
A bunny sanctuary, he muses to himself as he watches Nick meander down the hill. Maybe he can bring Madison up here to show them off; the added benefit of being alone with her cementing the plans in his head. Only once he can no longer see Nick’s shaggy headed form moving away does he risk peering through the binoculars again. His heart sinks finding her window dark now, anger towards Nick for ruining his evening burning anew in the pit of his stomach. He wanted at least one more look to finish his night off right. But honestly, with Madison, it's never enough for him. Troy knows he'll never be satisfied until he's finally, at long last, allowed to have her-body, mind and soul.  
Switching off the flashlight, he sits down again, leaning back to prop his booted feet on the railing he returns to his daydreams. Far below in the rough tumbled earth of the burrows a horde of rabbits sleep, completely unaware of how close they just came to annihilation.


End file.
